


Chokehold

by LittleMissCactus



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Denethor's A+ Parenting, Depression, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nightmares, Self-Esteem Issues, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissCactus/pseuds/LittleMissCactus
Summary: The Ring is destroyed, the war is over, and everything is okay now. So why does Faramir feel worse than ever?
Relationships: Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Chokehold

Faramir's eyes shot open and he bolted upright, panting silently and clutching his chest with trembling hands. Another nightmare. His eyes darted down to Éowyn, who was still sleeping peacefully, and part of him wanted to wake her, but he thought better of it. It was just a nightmare. He really shouldn't bother her with things like that.

He laid back down and drew his knees to his chest, eyes glazed over as the ghosts of his dream wavered behind his eyes. Was he a terrible person for having more nightmares about his own father than about the orc that nearly killed him? He supposed he must be, and an icy pain bit at his heart. He should be more grateful. If only he had been a better son, if only he could have saved his mother, if only...

His thoughts soon darkened his vision and he found himself shaking harder than ever as voices boomed from every direction, drowning each other out and yet united in their message. He was a failure. He should be dead. He deserved to be dead. That somehow, it was his fault that he lived and Boromir did not. He was too tired to argue with the voices, so he simply closed his eyes and allowed them to pierce through his mind, shaking him to his core as tears began to fall. He was stupid and worthless and didn't even deserve the peace that death brought. Maybe that's why he lived. To suffer and pay for being such a failure, for being so useless that even his own father wanted him dead.

He wasn't sure how long he spent like that, but he was eventually startled out of his spiraling by two strong arms wrapping around him from behind.

"Faramir?" Éowyn yawned, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck, "Is it another nightmare?"

"I'm sorry," Faramir said hoarsely, though he couldn't deny that the comfort felt nice, even if it was accompanied by a pang of guilt and the thought that he didn't deserve it.

"Hush, now." Éowyn pulled him close to her chest so that he was cradled in her arms like a child and he laid his head on her shoulder with a defeated whimper. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Faramir considered that for a moment. Yes, he wanted to talk about it. More than anything. But how could he possibly begin to put what he was feeling into words? How could he begin to explain the pain and feelings of inadequacy? And above all else, he didn't want reassurance. He _knew_ he was awful, no matter what Éowyn said, and hearing her disagree would only hurt more. "No," he said at length, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"That's alright, dear one. If you change your mind, just say the word."

Faramir bit his lip, then blurted out a desperate plea: "Kiss me. Please..."

Éowyn smiled and tilted Faramir's chin up so that their eyes met. "With pleasure." She leaned forward and captured his lips in hers, and for a beautiful, fleeting moment, Faramir was safe.


End file.
